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‘You killed Sebastián, didn’t you?’

‘No, I didn’t do it,’ I answered.

Sebastián’s chest had the kitchen knife stuck in it and as I had taken it five days previously she was perfectly entitled to think that I had taken his life.

‘You’re a murderer,’ she said.

‘I didn’t kill him.’

‘Then who did?’

‘I don’t know. How would I know?’

‘You had the knife. Why did you steal it?’

I didn’t reply.

‘Answer me. If you don’t answer me, I’ll give you another thrashing.’

I still didn’t reply.

She didn’t thrash me but she locked me in a room she called the punishment room, for incorrigible children, for rebellious children like me. I don’t know what happened outside, nor did I want to know. Fear overwhelmed me; being alone in that dark room, the darkness terrified me, I didn’t like being locked in. I think I suffer from claustrophobia. Perhaps that’s why I couldn’t kill Sebastián.

Someone opened the door and the bright light prevented me from seeing who it was. When my eyes adjusted to the light I saw her, it was the headmistress, she was drinking a cup of coffee and looking at me closely.